


he said, i’m a dirty rascal and i’m here to teach the king

by livingtheobsessedlife



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Library, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce has a Type and everybody knows it, Librarian AU, M/M, Requited Love, and Bruce is just very very gay and doesn’t know how to deal with crushes, himbo thor, librarian Bruce, librarian tony, thor’s always a himbo but he’s particularly himbo-ish for the sake of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingtheobsessedlife/pseuds/livingtheobsessedlife
Summary: “Excuse me, good sir!” The stranger says, much too loud for a library but oh god he has an accent too, and Bruce can feel the blush spreading over his cheeks, “I require assistance!”“I’d be happy to help,” Bruce says, his voice cracking just a tiny bit, “What can I do for you?”
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Thor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	he said, i’m a dirty rascal and i’m here to teach the king

**Author's Note:**

> hi I started this fic literally in July 2019 and for some unknown reason it took me over a year to finish but look! I did it! Woohoo! I was a shelver at my local library for two and a half years and I started this fic when I still worked there
> 
> yes the title is from a song in mary poppins returns what about it
> 
> Please enjoy!!! Might make some one shots of this version of thorbruce later bc I have lots of ideas :)

“Tony,” Bruce groans, making a dire attempt to pat his hair back into place, “Why do you always have to do that? You messed up my hair!”

“Oh please, beast boy, you’ve got hair like a dog’s,” Tony takes a seat in his own desk chair behind the semi-circle desk they share, “I didn’t change a thing.”

Bruce bemoans under his breath, a curse of Tony’s bad manners, but doesn’t push. He’s never been gifted with a hairbrush, he’s not gonna lie about that. He’s used to Tony’s antics anyway, better not to antagonize a man with absolutely no inhibitions if you ask Bruce. He’s learned that the hard way. 

Tony grabs clumsily at the stack of newspapers just to the right of Bruce’s computers, “Here, Brucey-poo,” He says, his voice a faux sugar, “I’ll tag these for you. Don’t you worry.”

Bruce glares at his desk partner. He’s just being Tony. He’s used to it. 

“We open in five, Stark,” Bruce mutters, logging into his computer, “Better do it quick.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s always about getting it over with with you, isn’t it? Ever learn to enjoy anything, Banner?”

Bruce doesn’t dignify that with a retort, quietly opens the library’s intranet page. He knows Tony never means a word that comes out of his mouth. Most of the time, it’s simply better to ignore him, he’ll get bored soon enough. 

Soon after Tony’s teasing begins, they fall into the near-silent routine of the last minute prep before opening. Minutes later, many of the daily patrons begin to meander in. 

Bruce smiles at Darcy as she makes a beeline for the New DVDs and Tony makes his typical attempt to flirt with Steve, who is still both hopelessly oblivious of Tony’s ogling and hopelessly awful with the library computers he’s been learning to operate for the past several months. 

“I’m gonna go help Stevie here check his email, Bruce. Man the battlements while I’m gone, yeah?”

Bruce ignores him and picks up the ringing phone, waving a vague acknowledgement at Tony as he waddles off toward the computers with hearts in his eyes, “You’ve got Bruce from the Reference desk, how can I help you today?”

So Bruce goes on about his day normally. He’s got his routine and nothing- _nothing_ \- could mess with that. He loves his routine, it’s what Tony hates most about him. 

He helps a kind, old woman find the book on gardening she wants, shows a young couple the shelf where they could find books on wedding planning, coaches an older gentleman through the online library app, and calls Nat to tell her they’re still on for lunch, all within the first hour of being open. Tony continues to lean against Steve’s station and flirt hopelessly with the emotional cardboard box he’s set his sights on. It’s nothing unusual, just his typical routine. Bruce feels great, really. 

The thing is, they live in New York. They have four very definable seasons, and it’s starting to get to the kind of cold period in Autumn where if you don’t have even a light jacket people are gonna look at you funny. It’s Bruce’s favorite time of the year really. He loves the coziness of layering up, wearing multiple jackets and looping a scarf around his neck. He would wear sweat shirts and jackets in the middle of June if it didn’t draw funny looks. 

So when this- well, the only word coming to Bruce’s mind is Adonis- when this Adonis of a man comes strutting into the library wearing a tank top with practically no sides holding it together, that certainly gets Bruce’s attention. When the guy actually approaches Bruce, his cheeks start growing red. 

“Excuse me, good sir!” The stranger says, much too loud for a library but oh god he has an accent too, and Bruce can feel the blush spread across over his cheeks too, “I require assistance!”

Bruce knows his eyes are all big and doe-eyed, he knows that for a fact, but how can you blame him when this absolutely inappropriately dressed man is approaching him with a smile like that?

“I’d be happy to help,” Bruce says, his voice cracking just a tiny bit, “What can I do for you?”

“I require a book on Norse mythology!” The stranger booms and god, Bruce is usually second-hand embarrassed by patrons with excessive volume but Bruce can’t look away from this guy’s jawline, really, it’s a miracle. 

“Well I can- I can help you with that. Is there a specific book you’re looking for or just any?”

“My name is Thor,” The foreign stranger says, voice booming with pride, “I seek a book to inform me of the tribulations of my namesake.”

“Okay, Thor,” Bruce says, and there’s a definite waver to his voice, “I can help you with that if you’d just follow me please.”

When Bruce shows Thor to the books on Norse Mythology, they pass Steve and Tony. Bruce refuses to look in Tony’s direction, he already knows he’s being watched like a hawk. Much to Bruce’s dismay, Tony’s well aware that Bruce has something of a type. 

In the end, Bruce helps Thor find a whole armful (Bruce learns that day that armful is something of a subjective term, he hadn’t known arms that big existed until he had met Thor, wow) of books detailing the rumored life of his appellation. 

“Thank you, kind sir, for helping me find these great texts. I owe you much for your selfless help.”

There’s that blush again, damn him. 

“You’re welcome, Thor,” Bruce admits softly, “Just doing my job.”

“If this world had more hardworking souls like you, it would tend to far fewer problems,” Thor says, and the way he says it, it sounds like a booming declaration, an ineffable law. Bruce is actually touched. 

Oh, god. He’s falling for this guy, isn’t he?

“Farewell, friend,” Thor says, then disappears into the shelves to find a place to read the many books Bruce had helped him find (the stack itself is dwarfed in the man’s long, strong arms, and Bruce hates that his eyes stubbornly linger). 

Luckily for Bruce, he somehow manages to continue his day without a comment about the foreign stranger from Tony. Bruce doesn’t know why Tony lets him get away with his heart eyes, but he counts himself lucky. He’ll take it. 

At one o’clock, Nat picks him up for lunch. 

“You ready?” She says, leaning against the other side of the reference desk as he signs off of his computer. Her small, fashionable black handbag hangs delicately from the crook of her elbow. 

“Yep,” Bruce says, pausing only to scan the immediate vicinity for Thor, not that he’d admit it.

“You sure?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Coming.”

Bruce scampers after her, “So, where’s lunch gonna be?”

Natasha grins, “I’m thinking we try something new.”

Bruce groans, “Seriously? Do we have to?”

The whole time at lunch, Bruce is… absent. His mind drifts. 

He counts himself lucky for a second time because Nat doesn’t say a thing about it. She knows him well enough (and she’s able to read body language well enough- seriously it’s like a bloody superpower it’s incomprehensible how good at reading people she is, she’s unstoppable at poker) that they both know she was able to pinpoint what exactly it was that got Bruce all in a niff the very second she had strolled up to him at the library that day. She stays quiet about it nonetheless, and Bruce is very grateful for it. 

When he gets back to the library after a meal at some hole-in-the-wall place Tony had told Nat about, Bruce gets back to work. He’s just a little distracted for the rest of the day, just a little off. 

For the day, Bruce counts himself lucky. 

For a day, he goes a little crazy over a guy, channels his inner Tony and obsesses a little. The people in his life let it go. It’s kind of a nice reprieve in his routine. 

The next day, everything’s back to normal. 

And then Thor waltzes back in again. 

This time, however, Tony’s at the desk. 

He gets one look at Thor, one look at the rapidly reddening blush on Bruce’s face, and bursts into laughter, “Oh my god, doc, you’re so screwed.”

And with that, he prances off to find the oblivious object of his own affections. 

Bruce pastes on the kindest, most indistinguishable expression he can muster in the face of this Adonis, “What can I help you with today, Thor?”

Thor, completely in character, beams, “My dear librarian friend, I have mastered the tales of the once mighty gods and I now desire the knowledge of modern knowledge. I seek the divinity of what you call science.”

Bruce grins, a prideful thing that evenly juxtaposes his ongoing blush, “You came to the right place then. I actually have, um, a PhD in physics as well as my masters in library science. This is kinda totally in my realm. What do you need?”

Thor’s face splits into a ginormous grin, “I want to learn the secrets of the universe.”

Bruce types thoughtlessly on the computer, checking the availability of the books he knows best, “That’s a pretty hefty topic to start off on. I’m impressed, Thor.”

“Well, kind bookkeeper, I wouldn’t be averse to a intelligent tutor to make the studies easier,” Thor says, and for all his degrees and years of schooling, Bruce somehow isn’t a smart enough to pick up on Thor’s subtext there, just smiles sweetly up at the yeti he’s been crushing on. 

“I can recommend some people who would love to teach an interested student. Oh, my friend Jane Foster is in between projects right now and she’s actually an astrophysicist. She loves talking to people about it, I’m sure I could-,”

“But didn’t you say you had a degree in physics?”

“Well, yeah, I do, but-“

Thor beams, clapping his hands together in a booming and very un-library-like gesture of satisfaction, “Fantastic! You shall be my tutor then!”

“Oh- oh! You want me to- well are you- do you really want that? I’m not much of a teacher really. There was a reason I went back and got a degree in library science. Passion and uninteresting tangents don’t exactly pay the bills.”

“Nonsense!” Thor insists, “You shall make a wonderful tutor!”

Bruce is physically incapable of saying no. 

“Well, okay, I mean I guess we could at least try it out, right?”

Thor is beaming like a puppy on steroids, “Wonderful! What books shall I begin with, ol’ teach?”

“Uh, here-“ Bruce says, scrambling for the printer, “We’ll start with these titles and you can read them and decide where you want to start. Come on, I’ll help you find them.”

Thor thunders after Bruce as the smaller man blushes continuously and meanders through the shelves, plucking off his personal recommendations. 

Bruce manages to control himself and only goes off on one tangent (and it’s about the unreliability of the tabloid scientists that litter the shelves and line up the daytime tv slots, so Bruce lets himself have that one)- Bruce thinks Tony would be proud of how he manages if he weren’t so distracted by his own misguided courting attempts across the way. 

By the end of it, Thor proudly holds a tight grip onto a stack of Bruce’s favorite titles about the many intricacies of the universe. 

“My friend,” Thor demands as they make their way back to Bruce’s desk, “How shall I contact you about my selections?”

“I mean you know where I work-“

“But not your hours! Excuse me if I may ask to have a more direct means of communication.”

Somehow, Bruce’s blush actually darkens to an even more impossible shade, “You’re asking for my phone number?”

Thor brightens as if he hadn’t even considered the most mainstream form of communication, “That would certainly work!”

“I don’t ordinarily offer my number to patrons,” Bruce warns, his eyes involuntarily dart down to Thor’s feet then back up to his eyes, “But, uh, I trust you enough. I’d be willing to make an exception.”

“Fantastic!”

They trade numbers, and Bruce’s voice only cracks a little on the last digit. Thor proudly folds the tiny piece of paper into his pocket and smiles, “I shall put your phone number into my phone so that we may be in contact at a moment’s notice!”

“Uh, yeah, a moment’s notice, sure.”

“Farewell, Friend Bruce, I shall see you soon!”

Bruce is lucky that Tony isn’t there because he’d never hear the end of the slack jawed way he watches Thor leave. 

Bruce is surprised a week later when Thor texts him that he’s finished all of the books. All of them. Bruce would’ve clocked the stack at at least two weeks of reading for a speed reader, let alone a hobbyist physicist. He’s impressed. And also stressed beyond belief. He’d thought he would have more time to torture himself over how he would respond to Thor’s text. Now, all of said stress is compressed into one very long day of work. 

“Doc, you okay over there?” Tony asks him after lunch, signing back into his email, “I can hear you thinking from over here.”

Bruce’s cheeks redden, “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

“Oh, no no, come on. You can’t fool me, doc, I know you. There’s something rambling around in that big head of yours,” Tony leans back in his office chair, steaming coffee cup cradled in his hands, “What’s up?”

Bruce glares resolutely at Tony, but apparently something about that to Tony instantly read boy trouble, and Tony went for the kill. 

“Ooooh, it’s about a guy?”

Bruce’s cheeks incriminate him, damn body language, an embarrassed red curling all the way up to his ears, “Shut up, Tony. I told you, don’t worry about it.”

“Ooh, so it is boy trouble. Interesting. Well, Brucey boy, lucky for you, I’m an expert in all things love. Lemme help you out.”

“Tony, no, come on-“

“Who’s the lucky guy, huh? Did you finally ask out the guy from the coffee shop? Or no, is it that new children’s librarian, the Quill guy? He’s hot. Or wait- do I even know him?”

Bruce’s silence is answer enough.

“So I do know him. Interesting.”

“Tony, please stop.”

“No, no, don’t worry, Brucey, we’re gonna get to the bottom of this.” 

Bruce groans and rubs his eyes, “Dear god, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Is it me? Aw, Bruce, I’m so flattered! You have a crush on me! It was only a matter of time, I don’t blame you. But you have to know nothing could ever happen between us. We’d be a disaster. A beautiful disaster, but-“

“God, Tony. Not everything is about you all the time. I definitely do not have a crush on you. Ew.”

Tony props his feet up on top of their desk, completely unperturbed by the blatant rejection. He leans back with his ankles crossed one over the other, “Is it that hunky mythology/physics guy with the accent?”

Bruce’s body language betrays him once again. 

“Ooh, so it is! You want me to talk to him for you, Brucey? Set you guys up?”

“No- no. Tony, that is literally the last thing I want you to do. Please do not do that.”

“Geesh, fine, I won’t. I’m just trying to help.”

“Look, it’s just- It’s stupid,” Bruce sighs, “I don’t know how to respond to his text is all. I’m working on it. I don’t need you.”

“Oh, Brucey!” Tony says, feigning sugary charm, “Why didn’t you just say that? Don’t you know I’m an expert in all things e-lec-tronic! Want me to coach you through the art of texting- or is it sexting you need help with, huh?”

Bruce isn’t terribly religious, but right now he’s ready to curse any god that’ll listen for bringing this Tony-themed torture upon him. He rubs tiredly at his face again. 

“Ew, no, Tony, it’s not like that. It’s just a simple text. I’ll figure it out.”

And Tony, with his usual total disrespect for personal boundaries, seems to take that rejection as a complete invitation to reach into Bruce’s sweater pocket and steal his smart phone from him. Bruce tries to squirm away, but the next thing he knows, Tony is leaning just out of Bruce’s reach with the messaging app already open. 

“Now let’s see here, what’s his name again? Ooh, Thor. That has to be it. Even his name is hunky. Nice.”

“Tony-“ Bruce warns, “Please don’t.”

“Relax, doc, I’m not gonna send anything without your okay first. I’m just getting a feel of the situation.”

“I don’t want you to get a feel of the situation! Give me my phone back, Tony!” Bruce demands, cursing under his breath as he makes a hot grab for his device, “I have things under control.”

Tony looks at Bruce skeptically, but nods. 

“Alright, doc,” Tony agrees after several tense moments, “It’s all you, buddy. If you insist.”

That evening when Bruce finally gets home after a long day at work, he admits to the emptiness of his apartment (and to his cat, Goose) that he maybe kinda totally wishes he would’ve just had Tony send the text. It would’ve saved him from this: staring angrily at a grey bubble and a dozen boring words, doubting entirely if they were the right ones. 

Eventually, he does a shot of tequila, presses send without looking, turns his phone off completely, hides the device under a random throw blanket, and leaves the room to distract himself elsewhere. 

He leaves it alone for all of five minutes before he gets impatient and makes a dive for his phone. Thor responded almost immediately. With a smiley face emoji. Bruce has… no clue what that means. He takes a deep breath (and another shot) and asks Thor if he wants to meet for coffee or something and have a discussion about the books. 

Thor replies almost immediately once again, and Bruce thinks, briefly, that he might die.

He tries to keep his responses light and succinct, and before he knows it they have a time and date set up to meet at a local coffee shop. 

‘Good night, kind friend :)’, Thor sends once the plans are made, ‘Can’t wait to see you again’

And yeah, Bruce has no idea how he’s gonna deal with this shit in person. He genuinely might combust in Thor’s earnest presence. Bruce sends back one last message, then shoves his phone under a throw pillow as far as it can go. 

He feels inexplicably doomed. 

When Bruce walks into the small downtown coffee shop, his first thought is wow this place seriously smells like coffee, which is immediately followed by the impending oh god shit shit crap I’m screwed when he spots Thor at a table near the back. Thor stands up, tall and stretched and absolutely unapologetic, his skin unfathomably sun kissed for the season, and he waves at Bruce from across the room. His smile glows.

An unnamed feeling riles itself in the pit of Bruce’s stomach, but he blames it on his body’s demands for caffeine, clutches his messenger bag in tight fists, and smiles back at Thor. When he files into the back of the coffee line, Bruce has to force himself not to look over at Thor. 

A few minutes of shuffling feet and mumbling thanks to an apathetic barista later, Bruce has his coffee in hand. Now he has to face Thor with his muscles and his smile and his earnesty and- 

“Hi, Thor,” Bruce says quickly, suddenly finding himself standing right in front of Thor.

Thor beams, and in an instant he’s standing up and pulling Bruce’s seat out for him. Bruce thinks he might swoon. He throws himself inelegantly into his chair and cups his hands around his cardboard cup, turning it in anxious counterclockwise circles as his hair falls in front of his face. He tries a nervous smile over his shoulder in Thor’s direction. 

“I greatly enjoyed your reading selections, Mr Bruce,” Thor says, his accent sounding heavy on Bruce’s name.

Bruce nods quickly, “I’m, uh, I’m glad. Are you gonna want some more?”

“Oh, yes! Most definitely! I thoroughly enjoy your guided assistance in obtaining such knowledge. It is a great pleasure to expand one’s mind.”

Bruce feels himself blush- who the hell talks like that! It’s like something straight out of an Austen novel or an Arthurian fable. Seriously. Bruce feels his fingers get hot around his steaming coffee cup. 

“That’s great. I’ll make sure to compile a good set of next books for you. Was there anything you particularly enjoyed?”

Thor’s face lights up, and he doesn’t even hesitate, “Discovering the truth of the stars and the fate of the universe.” 

It’s a really weird and overly complicated way to say astrophysics, Bruce deducts. 

“That’s a really interesting area of study. It’s not my speciality personally, but my friend Jane has a PhD in astrophysics. I’m sure she’d be glad to help you further your study if you were interested.”

Thor adopts this small, sly smile, “That sounds great. As long as I can still see you again.”

“Oh, uh, sure. To study. Yeah, of course. If that’s what you want.”

Thor beams, and Bruce is once again thrown asunder. 

“So what’d you learn?” Bruce asks, and Thor leans forward eagerly and summarizes some very complicated points of view. 

Turns out, not only did Thor devour the reading material in an impressively short amount of time, but he also comprehended it. Bruce didn’t think that he could possibly be any more attracted to this man, but…

“Wow. That’s a very thorough comprehension.” 

Thor beams proudly

And so, they discussed the readings like academics. Bruce didn’t hold back, he didn’t treat Thor like an inferior student or worry about coming off as a total nerd (if Thor can remember all that and build such distinct opinions of it, he’s nerdy enough too).

Time flies past, uncounted and listless, and the next time Bruce checks the time his phone, he curses.

“I have to go,” He mutters reluctantly.

Thor wraps two big hands around his empty cup and frowns, “Oh, my. I truly wish we could’ve spent our time together here longer, but alas, I understand.”

Bruce immediately regrets saying anything. If he’d just stayed quiet- it’s not like Nat would be mad. She’d probably tease him relentlessly for a few days, but it’d be for the sake of another hour with Thor. Bruce feels ridiculous. Besides, the words have already left his mouth. No backsies. 

He offers Thor a close lipped smile as they stand at the same time, and Thor’s responding visage is unapologetically happy to the nines, a sparkly beam full of big teeth and bright eyes. Bruce doesn’t understand how he’s like that: so young and beautiful, optimistic, all transcribed from his body language the moment he wakes up in the morning. 

“I gotta go,” Bruce says as quickly as he can, gathering himself clumsily, “See you around.”

Bruce leaves the coffee shop as fast as he can. 

So after that, Bruce figures wow, what a fantastic sort of, not really, maybe, only-if-you-squint somewhat date. Too bad I’ll never see him again. C’est la vie. He counts himself lucky that he was able to have such an enlightening conversation with somebody he liked as much as he likes Thor. It felt like seeing a shooting star in broad daylight. 

But obviously Bruce isn’t gonna see him again. Bruce doesn’t have that luck. 

And in some sense, he’s right: he doesn’t have that kind of luck. But he does see Thor again, just not when he wants Thor to see him. 

He’s in the middle of chastising a patron. 

He knows it’s wrong. Fury’s told him before that one of these days Bruce’s temper is going to cost the library some serious funding, but that’s the thing about tempers, it’s not all that fixable. 

Tony lovingly calls it Hulking Out. 

“Excuse me,” Bruce hisses at a particularly disrespectful patron. It’s those two words that usually end with Bruce going off on somebody, “What are you doing?”

The neanderthal looks around at the polite, minding-their-own-business patrons around him (of which not one offers sympathy) with a crooked, humored expression along the lines of _this guy, ha!_. Sibilant words like _hypocrite_ and _liar_ spill out of Bruce’s mouth like rambling curses. He points an accusatory finger in the guy’s direction, and Bruce’s vision goes red (metaphorically, in reality he has hazel eyes that Thor adores, but that’s beside the point). 

The bad news bear treks into the library right when Bruce is starting to go at it. 

The guy really deserved it, he was being disrespectful and misogynistic in Bruce’s favorite public place. Bruce has always felt that it’s his duty to defend the library and its patrons. It’s not his fault, really. But still, he’s more than a little embarrassed when he spots Thor sidling up to Tony out of the corner of his eye. 

Bruce stops mid-sentence, body frozen, chest heaving passionately. The asshole watches with glee, assuming Bruce’s false surrender. Bruce is more concerned with the way Thor shares a hearty laugh with Tony- he can’t help but wonder what the hell Tony could be saying that would make Thor laugh like that. 

Then, as if the universe is purposefully trying to make all the stars align in one bright moment of agony for Bruce personally, Thor turns and makes direct eye contact with him. 

Bruce feels his cheeks burn. They redden not like a tomato or an apple or anything so stereotypically rouged, no, it’s worse than that- or so it feels. He’s set on fire, and there’s nothing to do but return to the fight at hand. 

The rude patron is escorted out of the building by library security a few minutes later, only after a proper chastising. An elderly woman nearby touches three bony fingers to Bruce’s wrist as he passes her, and she tells him she appreciates his effort. Bruce doesn’t think anything of it, he was just defending his library. 

As good as it feels to send the douchebag out on his ass, now Bruce has even bigger horses to deal with. Thor, Tony, their newfound friendship, filled with startling giggles like bubbles flooded underwater, and Bruce’s foundling dread regarding this progression. 

“Uh, hey, Thor,” Bruce says carefully as he approaches the sketchy pair of them, “Didn’t know you were planning on coming around any time soon. What’s up?”

Thor lifts up an overstuffed, blue plastic bag and offers a meaningful, close lipped smile, “Movies for my infantile cousins.”

Bruce gulps, involuntarily, and tries to sound casual, “You babysit?”

Thor nods excitedly, effervescently. Bruce figures if he got sick right now, just absolutely blew chunks all over his shoes from the nerves, he could probably come up with a pretty good excuse. Thor’s smile literally glitters. 

Bruce clears his throat, “I didn’t, uh- I’m sorry you had to see that. I get, um, I have a bit of a temper.”

Thor shakes his head, and his expression grows impossibly serious. It’s unfair that he looks just as good with a solemn glare as when he tugs on his patent golden retriever impression. It’s really, seriously not fair. 

“Passion is an admirable attribute,” Thor declares, and if Bruce didn’t know any better, he’d almost say there was enough subtext between those words to sink a pool noodle to the bottom of the ocean. Tony’s visibly trying to smother a red-faced laugh from over Thor’s (notably huge, broad, attractive, infuriatingly exposed) shoulder.

“Uh- um, thanks.”

Thor remains bright and lifts the blue bag full of dvds into the air indicatively. He shrugs, “I should go. These children, they’re quite troublesome. The movies shall help. It was good to see you again, Bruce Banner. I look forward to our next study date. Farewell.”

And with that, the two on-call reference librarians watch in awe as the cheerful Thor wanders back off toward the exit. They sit in silence and just stare, all the way up to the moment when the automatic doors shut with a fast rush of air conditioning behind Thor’s half-naked figure in the distance. Tony finally lets out a sudden laugh. 

“Oh man, Bruce,” He says, his voice high with laughter, “You’re so screwed!”

Bruce throws his phone onto his desk space, letting the thing clatter noisily. He sighs. He totally is. 

Despite knowing this, Bruce can’t seem to get Thor out of his life. Granted, little to no effort is put into the movement, but still. Thor seems to have placed himself firmly and cheerfully in Bruce’s life, no matter what looking at the guy unknowingly does to poor Bruce’s fluttering, gay heart. 

They have three more coffee-slash-studying not-a-dates before Bruce gets up the nerve to ask Thor to come to the library’s annual ice cream social. When he finally manages a semi-coherent sentence that Thor somehow miraculously translates seamlessly, Thor smiles, clutching his books.

“Banner, I would love to come.”

Bruce feels his cheeks burn, “Great. I- uh- I’ll keep an eye out for you. I have to work technically but- I look forward to seeing you then.”

“Perhaps I shall bring my young cousins,” Thor ruminates, “Would that be alright?”

“That’s a great idea, Thor! It’s great for kids. I’d love to meet them.”

For a moment, Bruce swears Thor is about to lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, a motion that would surely set Bruce on fire right there in the coffee shop, hopeless and ablaze and utterly enraptured with Thor Odinson. But instead, Thor clutches at his books and swings his arms awkwardly, smiling.

“I’ll see you then,” He says, and leaves Bruce to suffer with an anxiety stomach ache until the day of the ice cream social finally arrives. 

“Doc,” Nat warns, a sharp edge to her voice as she leans against the concave curve of his desk, “You seriously have to calm down.”

Bruce’s hair is even more doglike than usual, the unruliness augmented by his stress. His hands move constantly, and even though he’s surrounded by informational papers and packets, he couldn’t describe what a single word on any piece of paper said. His mind was elsewhere.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, circling something with a red pen just in an attempt to create an illusion of productivity and sanity, “I’m a little distracted is all.”

Bruce is startled by Tony’s snort of laughter. He hadn’t noticed the other librarian saunter over and collapse into his desk chair. 

“A little distracted? Doc, you’re in a different solar system all together. You’ve been a mess for days now.”

Bruce feels his cheeks burn. 

Nat looks between Bruce and Tony with a curious, curved brow. She ends with a glare at Tony, “What do you know, Stark?”

Tony throws his palms in the air as if surrendering, the universal sign of peace and civility and totally-willing-to-share-coworkers’-business. 

“Ever since he’s been meeting up with that hunky Thor guy, he’s been in a different stratosphere. He invited him to the social tonight.”

The way Bruce gulps uneasily is what gives him away, and Nat swivels that glare back to him.

“How come I don’t know about this Thor guy, Bruce?”

“It’s nothing. He’s nothing,” Bruce insists, idly hoping that the Loch Ness monster has been hiding under the Ask Us desk for years and is about to choose that moment to finally tug him away, “I’ve been tutoring him, that’s all. Really. It’s not like he would ever go out with me anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

Nat and Tony blink at him.

“What?”

“What do you mean he wouldn’t go out with you?” Nat asks, and her voice is soft. Nat’s voice is never soft. Accusatory, harsh, intimidating, deceptive. All words to describe Nat’s voice, none of them the word soft.

“I just mean he’s way too good for me,” Bruce reluctantly admits, putting his head in his hands. Suddenly all the words from all the papers and packets around him seem to fill his head at once. He has a migraine. 

Tony rolls his office chair closer, “You’re kidding, doc, seriously?”

“Tony-“ Bruce earns, not in the mood to get teased. 

But for what might be the first time in his whole life, Tony's serious. 

“Do you really not know the way that guy looks at you? He looks at you like he’s a dog and you’re some meaty delicious treat dangling right under his nose. Bruce, he wants to eat you up.”

Bruce groans, hating that imagery with a passion and still being resolutely convinced that Tony is kidding with him.

“I’m not in the mood for this, Tony. I-“

Nat slaps her hand on the desk, startling them all. Bruce is forced to look her right in the eye. Accusatory, harsh, intimidating. All words to describe the glare she narrows on him.

“You’re an idiot, Bruce. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but listen to Stark. He may be a dumbass, but he has eyes. He didn’t make this up.”

“Aw, thanks Nat,” Tony coos, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up, asshat. I’m talking.”

Tony shuts his mouth, “Aye aye.”

“When Thor gets here later, you’re gonna ask him out, Bruce, or I swear to god you’ll regret it,” Nat threatens, leveling a pointed finger at the space between Bruce’s eyes, “You’re your own worst enemy, Banner.”

Bruce rubs a heavy hand at the nape of his neck, “Okay, yeah, I guess-“

“No ‘I guess’, doc,” Nat points an accusatory finger at Bruce that feels like it could very well have a red hot burning laser at the end of it, “You’re going to do this. He makes you happy. Man up already.”

Bruce gulps. He doesn’t have much choice in the matter, it seems.

“Alright.”

“Good,” Nat says, satisfied. She pushes against the edge of Bruce’s side of the desk and starts walking away, “See you guys at the social.”

“She’s a hell of a woman,” Tony says once they’ve watched Nat disappear behind two separate sets of doors, nearly a hundred feet away. Bruce narrows a glare at his coworker.

“Shush, she can probably still hear you.”

Tony pouts, crosses his arms, and types his log-in into his computer. Steve sits at a computer straight ahead in Tony’s line of sight, smiling at the unbeknownst librarian, and Bruce is so preoccupied he doesn’t even bother to tease Tony about his smittenness. He has his own problems. 

“Hi! Welcome!” Bruce says later in the evening, trying to sound cheery as another family passes through the library’s automatic doors. The two young kids race past him, laughing, and the parents don’t bothering acknowledging the twitchy librarian as they take off after them, voices raised. 

Bruce sighs and welcomes the next set of guests. 

Tony had demoted Bruce to door duty from the crafts station after his third near-save with a set of kid-sized craft scissors. 

“Sorry, sorry,” He had mumbled as Tony confiscated the tiny purple instrument, “My mind’s a little… everywhere right now.”

“Great introspection, Sherlock. I’m moving you to door duty.”

Bruce had frowned. Door duty was the worst, and he loved helping the kids color. It was the best part of ice cream socials. What was the point of being a head library if you couldn’t get to pick which duty you got? But then again, Tony had a point. He was a danger to himself right now. He had nearly broken the printer by filling it with paper after lunch even though he had already done it twice, giving the poor machine the robotic equivalent of a heart attack, it’s mechanical arteries clogged with a surplus of paper. Bruce hadn’t even known that was possible. 

He crossed his arms at Tony, “Fine. But for the record, that joke doesn’t work because Sherlock Holmes’s character is meant to be socially inept. He wouldn’t be very good at introspection.”

Tony arched an eyebrow, and pointed in the direction of the front of the library, “Door duty, doc.”

He went willingly, albeit not feeling very cheerful about it. 

“Welcome,” He repeats to another scattered family. Excited kids run off before the words leave his mouth, and the parents are too bothered wrangling their ice-cream-in-the-head offspring to so much as nod politely in Bruce’s direction, “Welcome. Come on in. Welcome. I hope you have a-“

“Bruce!” Comes a familiar, booming voice. There’s no forced cheeriness in that voice. Bruce feels himself grow sweaty immediately. 

“Thor. You came.”

Thor nods, his smile growing, “Of course, I did. My dear Bruce, don’t you know that I-“

“Uncle Thor! Uncle Thor!” Whatever Thor was about to say is imminently interrupted by the pattering of tiny, excited feet. Thor’s smile turns sympathetic and soft, his eyes lingering on Bruce before he turns on his heels and kneels down to accept the incoming onslaught of child sized hugs. 

Bruce, meanwhile, is still trying to figure out what Thor was about to say. He’s still stuck on the fact that Thor had called him ‘my dear Bruce’- nobody had ever called him that before, and- what was he going to say he should’ve know. Bruce doesn’t even notice at first that one of Thor’s cousins is tugging at his pant leg. 

“Mr librarian, Mr librarian!”

Bruce manages a small smile, but he can’t help but feel the ever-present nervous sweat pooling along his back, “Yes?”

“Uncle Thor says you’re pretty.”

Bruce immediately feels his face turn red. What was it that Tony had said about door duty? That it would be easier? This isn’t what Bruce would call easier. Slowly, he raises his head to make eye contact with Thor. It’s almost worse that Thor doesn’t look away. 

“You did?”

Thor’s still smiling unabashedly, and Bruce can’t imagine ever getting used to something like that, “Of course I did, Banner. It’s the truth. You’re beautiful.”

And at that Bruce’s mind just- stops working. Now Bruce is a smart guy. Master’s degree in library science and a PhD in physics on top of that, he’s never particularly considered himself brain cell deficient. But there’s something about Thor that makes them all disappear. Bruce can’t believe that somebody like Thor exists: somebody who just says what they think, let’s themself feel what they feel without overanalyzing every drop of serotonin or dopamine or whatever other complicated neurotransmitters Bruce is constantly trying to understand. 

“I- uh, thank you. Thor. You’re, um, you too,” Bruce eventually manages. Rather lamely, but at least he manages to get words out of his mouth. 

Before Thor can respond with something undoubtedly poetic and more verbose than _uhh_ , Thor’s nephew is tugging at the side of his ripped tee shirt, “Uncle Thor, uncle Thor! There’s crafts, can we please go to the crafts? Pleeeeeease?”

For the first time, Thor’s smile shows just an ounce of something that isn’t pure, puppy-dog-like happiness. His smiling face rotates stiffly from Bruce down to the child who looks so dwarved and miniature beside his large uncle. Thor nods reluctantly and reaches down to grab his little cousin’s hand.

“Yes, youngling. We can go to the crafts,” He looks to Bruce with big, sympathetic eyes that Bruce could spend hours deciphering as he stands back up, one large hand still cupped around his cousin’s, “I hope to see you later, doctor.”

And Bruce is rendered speechless once again as he watches the peculiarly shaped triad of the two tiny kids and their giant uncle disappear in the direction of the crafts.

After that, Bruce somehow manages to be the first SHIELD library employee in history to fail at door duty. Maria, the head of circulation, politely suggests that maybe he should go outside to work traffic flow. But then he almost causes an accident, and he knows two of the student shelvers are watching him with sympathetic eyes and small, sardonic smiles as he mercifully gets redirected back into the building. Scavenger hunt, shelving, he even works the phones at one point. Bruce’s night continues like that, jumping mindlessly from assignment to assignment until he eventually ends up back on crafts duty. 

Thor and his fun sized posse are gone by now, of course, probably enjoying ice cream outside or working their way through the ice cream themed scavenger hunt, but Tony’s still there. And he’s got his hip popped and arms crossed as Bruce shyly approaches the craft station.

“I thought I told you to work door duty.”

Bruce considers lying. Instead he collapses in a chair meant for a kindergartner, and looks up at his coworker with a sigh.

“I got kicked off door duty.”

“Well what makes you think I’m gonna let you anywhere near my stickers, huh?”

“Because I also got kicked off traffic duty, scavenger hunt duty, shelving, and phones.”

“Damn. You’re a disaster, doc.”

“Tony-“ Bruce warns, “Please don’t-“

“No, no,” Tony interrupts, “I’m gonna revel in this, Banner. You’re so obsessed with a guy that you can’t do anything. You’re like a teenage girl-“

“ _Tony_.”

“What? You are! Are you really so in your head that you can’t see he’s _suuuper_ into you?”

Bruce’s head falls into his hands.

“Look, it’s stupid. I _know_ it’s stupid. Trust me, I know. But- he’s friendly and optimistic and so smart and-“

“Don’t forget smoking hot.”

Bruce’s cheeks characteristically burn, and Tony grins.

“Yeah, there’s that too.”

Tony takes one of the primary color, toddler-sized chairs. He has to sit with his legs spread wide and his back hunched. It’s not uncomfortable, but it forces Bruce to look at him, “Look. I will never admit to this if you tell anyone ever. But, Bruce, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You’re smarter than me- eh, not a word, I’ll deny it if you tell anyone. I’m talking, dummy. You’re a genius, and you’re great with kids, and though you might be unconventional, you’re great with people too. You’re a total catch, Banner. Like Nat said, at some point you just got to man up and tell the very pretty person that you’re obsessed with that you would like to go out on a real date with them.”

“I’ll do it if you ask Steve out.”

“I don’t- I- you. Traitor. I take it all back, Banner. You’re stinky and dumb and you’re gonna be alone forever.”

Bruce manages a smile, laughs at the floor beneath the short, bean-shaped table, “Alright,” He says eventually, “I’ll talk to Thor.”

Tony smiles, pats hard at Bruce’s back, “Great! Smart move, doc.”

Around then is when they witness a seven year old take off at a sprint across the children’s section, purple, child sized scissors poised directly outward, and Tony springs to action, leaving a partially miserable Bruce to surround himself with crude ice cream cone cutouts. 

“Hey! Somebody stop that scissor wielding kid! Get back here! That’s dangerous! Hey!”

Bruce chuckles, and watches Tony bicker with the kid’s disgruntled parents. 

Eventually, Bruce’s evening leads him back outside to the traffic and the mild bite of the late-fall evening chill and the well lit ice cream truck in the library parking lot. There are kids and parents milling about, various employees with smiles on their faces directly both foot and vehicle traffic respectively. Bruce sits on a curb away from most of the pattering kid feet, his elbows resting on his bent knees as he slowly licks at a cone of vanilla-chocolate swirl and pokes at the loose gravel with the toe of his shoe. Thor had beamed when he saw him, but disappeared without saying anything, and Bruce is sure he left, didn’t even bother to say goodbye, surely. He digs a particularly large piece of tar out of the spot where the asphalt meets the curb. 

He’s looking down, ice cream dripping slowly over his knuckles, when a familiar pair of flip flops step in front of him.

“Thor? You’re still here.”

When Bruce looks up at the man towering over him, goofy smile and double fists of ice cream in hand, he barely manages to smother his surprise. Thor quickly sits down on the curb next to him, nodding.

“Of course, good Bruce. You didn’t think I’d leave without saying goodbye?”

Thor doesn’t miss Bruce’s silence, and his smile disappears, his brows crinkling unhappily.

“You really thought I was going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“You had your hands full, that’s all,” Bruce says softly. He licks at his ice cream, avoiding Thor’s soft, iron stare as he shrugs and his shoulders go all the way up to his ears, “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you left. It’s fine, really. I’m just me.”

“Banner, I-“

“Will you go on a date with me?”

For the first time since they’ve known each other, Thor is the speechless one. He recovers quickly though, much quicker than Bruce would’ve if he was in Thor’s position, and a characteristic smile quickly blooms over his lips.

“I’d love to, my dear.”

Bruce literally feels his heart skip a beat. Literally. He doesn’t think it’s medically sound. He should probably see Helen about this if- “Really?”

Thor laughs, this big belly, head-thrown-back sort of laugh, “Of course, dear Bruce.”

Seriously if he’s gonna keep calling him dear, Bruce is pretty sure his face is just going to permanently burn an embarrassing red, and surely his stomach is never going to stop this weird somersaulting thing.

And then- Thor leans over and presses a kiss to a Bruce’s cheek, chaste and gentlemanly and sweet. Then he throws an affectionate arm around Bruce’s shoulders, pulling him close, their knees bent high as they lean into one another, smiling. Thor presses another kiss to the top of Bruce’s head, and zbruce genuinely doesn’t believe that this his life. He doesn’t get the handsome prince, the popular jock. He’s the guy in the back of the classroom that nobody notices. 

Bruce looks across the parking lot, strung lights creating a faint aura around the patch of asphalt, and it’s then that he notices Tony. And Steve. Talking with their heads bowed close, intimately, nervously. Bruce watches as their heads bob, and soon enough their eyes meet. Small smiles. 

Bruce lets himself lean against Thor, ice cream dripping against the asphalt between his knees, “Hey, Thor?”

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you for saying yes.”

Bruce feels a laugh rumble its way out of Thor’s chest, and he presses another gratuitous kiss to the top of Bruce’s head, “You needn’t worry, my Bruce, for I am yours.”

Seriously, Bruce thinks, Helen’s gonna have an ooey-gooey, love-addled librarian to fix if Thor keeps this up. Bruce dares whatever god of medical conditions is listening to bring it on.


End file.
